


The Way Out Is Through

by SyntacticSugar



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angels, Demons, Established Relationship, Flower of White, Hell, M/M, Season Finale, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntacticSugar/pseuds/SyntacticSugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the cowboy killed his human body, DeBlanc reinvigorated in hell.</p>
<p>It took just a blink of his eyes to confirm not only was he still in hell - he was in ‘his’ hell.</p>
<p>What DeBlanc didn’t want to tell Fiore, that his fear of going to hell was going back to 'his’ domicile - the same one of which he found himself currently in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Out Is Through

After the cowboy killed his human body, DeBlanc reinvigorated in hell.

It took just a blink of his eyes to confirm not only was he still in hell - he was in ‘his’ hell.

What DeBlanc didn’t want to tell Fiore, that his fear of going to hell was going back to 'his’ domicile - the same one of which he found himself currently in.

DeBlanc was created, pulled painfully into existence as a tool. One that could be taken out when wanted and stored away when not.

He found he was not wanted more than wanted.

So. He sat. In a bare grey room, with nothing in it, waiting to be called upon by a higher ranking demon or the devil himself to possess and “white out” the vision of a selected human to kill as many as possible.

DeBlanc did his job well, thinking that would keep him from his room.

It didn’t help.

He did his job badly, eating or sleeping more than killing.

It didn’t help.

It was only his mission to protect Genesis that kept him free - he couldn’t be “put back” if he was hiding away unreachable in heaven. Genesis gave him purpose beyond his functional creation. It was Fiore who gave him life.

But no more. DeBlanc wanted to scream and yell and rage but knew that he had never-ever escaped from his hell. He remembered trying again and again and again.

He wanted to yell for Fiore, but resisted; incase his call prompted loose demons to seek out the lone angel.

So. He sat. In the one corner he liked the most - for no apparent reason other than he did.

It felt odd back in his real form, scarred and scaled with his broken jagged wings. He thought he might have finally settled into that human body.

DeBlanc thought of Fiore and Genesis and that kept him going. At least for a while. He knew he was in for the long haul and thinking of them would keep his resolve.

The memory that ran through his mind, unprompted, but appearing more often than not was of the time in the diner explaining Genesis’ creation to the preacher.

He didn’t want to tell the Preacher the story, but his prompt powered by Genesis, was undeniable. DeBlanc believed Genesis itself probably wanted someone to tell him the story, which made DeBlanc feel even more compliant.

It was only when the preacher asked question in his own voice, that it knocked DeBlanc out of his 'storyteller’ command.

The question was “…Genesis is some sort of angel/demon baby?”

DeBlanc took offense at the over simplification of Genesis. It’s massive power, the danger of its existence alone - of which others could control it - all of which was far beyond what a human could understand.

It was more than 'just’ a baby.

The weight of the question and answer didn’t really sink in until long after they disarticulated the Seraphim (locking the door and stuffing a blanket in the seam to make it more soundproof).

It was just after they finally got rid of all the bodies, remade the beds and setup the coffee maker.

DeBlanc stared far too long at the ugly comforter and just started crying.

An action which terrified Fiore who then turned to look for a weapon to kill DeBlanc.

DeBlanc stopped him with a hand. “This human body is distraught. I’m not injured or dying.”

Fiore got to the root of the statement, as he did any other time “Are you distraught?”

DeBlanc hiccupped before meeting Fiore’s eyes, choking out “It’s a baby.”

Fiore put his hands on his hips and looked away.

DeBlanc knew they had never called Genesis that. It was too revealing of a title. But, it was true - even the dumb human preacher knew.

Genesis got cranky, scared, frustrated; but was also happy, calm and contented with Fiore and DeBlanc.

Fiore said, here and now in this rubbish motel, as DeBlanc struggled to gather himself. He said that he remembered a time when DeBlanc's lullabies couldn’t calm Genesis.

Instead it just wanted Fiore to hold it - then it quickly settled down. Fiore said he felt an indescribable pride at that moment.

There shining eyes met and the weight of there mission was even more present. Genesis - the baby - was lost to them, always potentially in danger and currently being used by some human.

Fiore felt liquid fall down his face from his eyes as he moved to sit next to DeBlanc who stared intently at Fiore, with tears threatening to spill from his own eyes.

As soon as Fiore sat on the bed, DeBlanc gently pushed Fiore down on his back and DeBlanc curled into his side as Fiore started crying more openly.

Emotions hitting again like a wave, DeBlanc tried hiding his face in Fiore’s shirt. He whispered, somehow louder than both there sounds, “our baby”. Which made Fiore wrap his arms around DeBlanc, holding tight until they found comfort in each other.

Time stretched. DeBlanc knew days were passing in his hell, as the walls would shake to reset the day. He remembered the happier times, along with the bad - anything that wasn’t “now”.

DeBlanc didn’t recognize the day he was in. Ultimately it wasn’t important. But he knew deep down it was the worst 'day’ of his life.

He supposed it could have been the day Genesis escaped but DeBlanc knew that day was coming. He could feel it just as Fiore could. He just hoped to protect them both as best he could when that day came.

Admitting to himself, that day probably was very close to being the worst day of his life. The worry, the fear, the anger. Through it all though, he had Fiore at his side.

His hell was worse. It embodied and oozed the time 'before’ Genesis and Fiore. The time when he was a tool to be used. Hidden away, maybe forgotten.

In this domicile, there was no love from another and no one to love. He had no voice confident enough to sing lullabies. Just silence and never ending eternity.

DeBlanc did his best to hold on as long as he could. But, he felt his mind start to unravel.

His hell being 'before’ - He started to forget everything precious to him.

Then it was nothing more than a nagging feeling. Whispering every now and then.

There was something important, very important that he had to find. His son? No. That’s not right. Demons can’t have children.

But it was important - something very important to him and Fiore. Oh, may he never forget the light that is Fiore. Fiore with his eyes the color of -

DeBlanc blinked. He couldn’t remember.

It was then he wanted to cry like a human; knowing full well he was unable to.

DeBlanc instead retreated further into his own mind, choosing to disassociate with his body.

He was starting to slip, here too. As time passed and the nothingness grew and grew. He started mentally trying to repeat his memories as stories to keep them alive.

He sometimes couldn’t remember if the story he was telling was true or if his mind was filling in gaps where it thought there was a reasonable chain of events.

It got to the point that he couldn’t remember the beautiful angels name. It was there. On the tip of his tongue. If he could just remember. Something more than the smiles and the soft warmth. Maybe he was just daydreaming.

DeBlanc got angry when he couldn’t think of what was at his fingertips. There was something. Something important. He had to remember. It was a very good thing, which made no sense as DeBlanc knew he was a demon in hell. There will never be any “good things” in this place or for him.

Still, DeBlanc knew something wasn’t right, something was forgotten. At the beginning of the day, right after the walls shook, DeBlanc would check himself for injuries. It was something he always did, to ensure he would be ready to work.

His body, his corporal form was fine. His soul was intact, but, it seemed somewhat damaged.

He tried visualizing what it was and struggled. Within his soul, there was two tiny glittering jewels within him. One of grey and one the light color of blue.

Each day he would think on these jewels, wonder on the colors and what could have permanently damaged him. He didn’t know how souls could be injured. He only knew the pain and the destruction of forms - of bodies.

He wasn’t in a recent fight. That he knew of - or could remember. His memory wasn’t that great he’d admit.

The jewels weren’t painful. DeBlanc just knew they weren’t a part of his soul, they were something 'other’. It felt like they were dug in deep and had healed partially over, a foreign object that his soul accepted to be fused into. It was strange.

When focusing on them, he felt a calm wash over him and a hum of a tune - DeBlanc unable to voice it, but it reminded him disjointedly of the sea.

DeBlanc thought, maybe one day, he’ll figure out what that tune was.

Why he wanted to vocalize it.

Why he felt like he was missing something that should be at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's the companion to The Great Below. DeBlanc is far from getting back to Fiore, but it's better than him being killed by the Saint of Killers...


End file.
